Home
by thelumpiestlumpinthewest
Summary: Slight Klaine and Finchel/AU. Rachel Berry's life is good. Well, as good as it gets when you're a celebrity's secret daughter. But Rachel is soon close to being found out, and is sent away to a home. A home where there are friends. A home where she can try new things. A home where secrets are kept.
1. New Home

The windows on the bus were grimy and hard to see through, dirtier than, it seemed, dirt itself. Of course, this was impossible, but Rachel wasn't in the mood to correct her jumbled mind. The bus jumped and shuddered on the unfamiliar road, causing most of its passengers to brace themselves against the seat in front of them. Rachel dug around in her coat pocket, fingers grasping the crumpled paper. She'd reread the letter far too many times. Her nervousness had been inevitable, no doubt. Rachel was dreading the hard times ahead at the new home. She'd heard jobs were scarce, but, knowing it to be untrue, Rachel had secretly hoped that her father's assistant cared enough to send her to a town bursting with life. New York had been colorful and bright, street performers on every corner. Unfortunately, times were tough for the famous Berrys, and young Rachel could no longer be properly cared for. As the day had come, Rachel had shouldered her bag and tried stay rooted to the living room carpet. Her fathers had pushed her all the way to the door, giving her a quick shove onto the front porch. Her argument was always the same; eighteen was old enough to take care of one's self. Obviously not.

So here she was; future Broadway legend and secret daughter of Hiram and Leroy Berry, on a poor excuse for a bus, jolting through the hills of Indiana.

The bus rattled to a stop at a sign, vandalized beyond recognition, and the driver pushed the door open impatiently. Rachel dropped the money into his pudgy white hand, gingerly stepping onto the leaf-covered sidewalk. The bus took off with a puff of black smoke, leaving Rachel to fend for herself in the land of Deserted Sidewalk. She took out the other letter addressed to her.

Dearest Rachel,

As I have told you many times, I apologize for this sudden turn of events. Your father and I had no other option, you understand. There will be many other children young adults for you to socialize with at the home. Call as much as you like, but you must understand, we are very busy adults. Leave voicemails, please. Remember to practice your vocals, dearest. I hope you remember your voice, as you so often forget you talent.

Love,

Hiram

At the bottom of the letter was an address for her new home. Memorizing it quickly, Rachel crushed the letter in her palm, fingernails making deep indentations. Then she took off at a brisk stroll across the desolate bus stop.

The home was fairly large, made of bricks that had faded from red to bright pink. The land around the house stretched out for many acres, containing many horses and trees. A few kids were scattered across it. Rachel knocked on the door several times before receiving an answer. The boy who answered was tall and pale with perfectly styled chestnut hair. He leaned against the doorframe and waited for something. Rachel introduced herself.

"Hello, my name is Rachel Berry. And who might you be?" The boy gave a dramatic nod and swept his arm out, the door swinging backwards.

"I'm Kurt Hummel, miss. Let me just say, your fathers' work is spectacular!" She gave him a smile and stepped into the house. A girl dressed as a cat dropped the sparkly stick she'd been holding when she entered.

"NEW GIRL!" she screamed, flying down a hallway. Suddenly, teenagers started popping up from out of nowhere. Most of them grabbed her hand and shook it intensely, leaving her with a sore wrist.

"Oh, hello! I'm sorry, who are you? Oh…oh! Hi! I do hate to be rude—oh! Please—" Rachel worked to get a word in, but several teenagers were all talking at once. Kurt slammed as slender hand against the wall, quieting everybody instantly.

"People, this is Rachel Berry, fellow secret-child-of-a-celebrity. Please, accept her in you ranks and all that good stuff," She bit her lip and looked at Kurt, who had put an arm around her shoulders.

"I have a letter for the…owner of this lovely home. Could you please, um, inform her of my arrival or…?" Kurt's eyes brightened and he offered his arm to her. She took it hesitantly, allowing him to guide her through the house. The home's walls were deep red, swollen with framed photographs of all the residents, and, as it seemed, previous residents. Little white strips were placed under each photo, telling who was in it. At the very end of the hallway, an empty frame hung on the wall. The white strip said Rachel's name.

Kurt was talked endlessly about his favorite musicals her fathers had been in, but Rachel's thoughts were elsewhere. The kids had been nice enough, but there was something off about them. She wanted, more than anything, to be back in New York in her fathers' penthouse, curled up in her silk blankets, earbuds screaming Wicked in her ears. No, she told herself. You mustn't dwell on the past. Focus on the present. Luckily, they had reached their destination. Kurt knocked on the door a few times.

"Come in," a voice called. He turned the doorknob and gestured for her to enter. Rachel thanked Kurt and walked in. The walls were lined with bookshelves, books ranging from Harry Potter to The History of Light Bulbs. Two large chairs sat facing a large window, a small table stacked with books in front of them. "Join me, miss?" Rachel walked slowly to the front of the chairs. A man who looked about thirty with greasy hair was sitting there, glasses perched on the end of his nose, and eyes scanning the pages of a book whose title was worn away. Settling into the chair opposite the man, she careful balanced the letter on her knees.

"My name is Will Schuester. And you are?" Rachel toyed with a stray thread on her sweater, rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger.

"Rachel Berry, sir. Um, I have a letter?" Will held a hand out, palm up, for her to place it in. She quickly set it in his hand. He read over it silently, the occasional grunt in response to something her father had said.

"Ah, yes. Hiram and Leroy's girl. I hope you find this home to your liking, Miss Berry," He raised an eyebrow at her, as if to ask, "Is it?"

"Very much, sir. It's very beautiful, inside and out!"

"Yes, well, we are honored to have you. Kurt! You can come in now," The doorknob turned slowly and Kurt entered, face bright pink in embarrassment. He placed himself right next to Rachel's chair. "What is your excuse this time, Mr. Hummel?" asked Will exasperatedly.

"I'm so sorry, sir, really! I just—I was—I'd hoped Rachel would be accepted with no problem?" he offered. Will rolled his eyes and dismissed the two, giving Kurt the job of showing Rachel around her new home.

The room she was given was also the room of two other girls. A quiet girl named Quinn and the girl dressed as a cat, Brittany. Her bed consisted of a thin, battered mattress and pointy springs. A small table stood beside it, solemn and bare. Rachel placed the crumpled up letter from her father, her iPod, and a picture of her fathers on the table. She left her clothes in the suitcase, sliding it underneath her bed. A name was carved into the wall above her bed.

Santana Lopez, 2012

Rachel wondered who Santana Lopez was. Maybe she just didn't remember shaking her hand after her arrival. Maybe she'd ask Quinn later. A pretty Asian girl stopped in the doorframe and cleared her throat. Rachel looked up.

"Can I help you?"

"Um, most of us, well, all of us are going outside. Maybe you'd want to…join us?" The girl stood there awkwardly for a few minutes.

"Oh, yes. I'd love to. I'll be right out," Rachel grinned.

"Okay. I'm Tina." Tina vanished from the doorway and Rachel pulled out her suitcase. A bright purple notebook rested on top of her reindeer sweater. Grabbing it and a pencil, she quickly rushed to the front door, threw it open, and walked around the side of the house.

Rachel hadn't had enough time to stop and really look at the yard. It was bigger than she had thought. Some of the boys were playing football while the girls were reading under trees, humming quietly. Rachel chose a large, shady tree and sat down to draw. She did a few sketches of Kurt, whose face had a complex beauty, and a few of the house. Rachel had just finished drawing the body of one of the boys when she spotted Kurt. He moved sneakily, like he didn't want anyone to see him. After he disappeared into the trees, Rachel raced to the woods. Following the trampled plants, she eventually came upon Kurt. He reached up into a tree and pulled down a shoebox. Kurt took a small, thin stick out of the box and shoved his hand into his back pocket.

Kurt exhaled the smoke and breathed in the cool air through his nose. The cigarette stuck between his index and middle fingers. Rachel had seen kids far younger than her smoke, but that didn't mean she thought it was good for anybody. Her mother had smoked, her father had told her. She'd grown up hearing the many dangers and health risks cigarettes came with, so the sensations of smoking was alien to her. Of course, she'd been tempted to grab one of the maid's and shut herself in the bathroom to test it.

"Rachel?" Kurt was looking at her funnily, cigarette hidden behind his back.

"I want one!" she blurted out. His eyes widened.

"Oh, please don't tell anyone! I'll let you have one just…promise me!" Rachel nodded feverishly. Why had she said that? Did she really want one? It was really tempting. Before she knew it, Kurt had lit the cigarette and handed it to her. "Put it in your mouth." He instructed. Rachel lifted it to her lips shakily.

**Hello, there! gadgetsandgizmosgalore here! I started this story yesterday and I don't really have a plan for it. Suggestions? I was planning on putting a tiny bit of teensy bit of Klaine and Finchel in here. It will mostly be Kurt and Rachel friendship. Yay! Reviews are love!**


	2. Ghosts

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**Glee**_**.**

Santana continued down the empty hallways, alternating between walking and floating. It was so overwhelmingly lonely here, even if she had Quinn. She'd grown to, inexplicably, tolerate Finn and Sebastian's physically intolerable presence. After all, they were the only ones she had anymore. Quinn could see her, though. It came as a shock at first, but then Santana had tested her thoroughly…

_Santana held up two fingers next to her face. Quinn crossed her arms and raised a perfectly penciled eyebrow._

_ "How many fingers am I holding up?"_

_ "Two."_

_ "You really can see me!"_

And she knew it was the truth.

Her soul was alone in the hallway. At least in the attic she had Finn and Sebastian, but not here. _This must be the way they feel in their rooms; alone._ Santana had almost grown accustomed to being dead; floating through the attic, sitting on the dusty couch, trying to remember that you could fall through any moment. Then Rachel had come, bursting at the seams with talented life and curiosity. Santana had seen her through the window, dancing in the autumn air with Kurt, crunching all over the fallen leaves. Sometimes, just to try and remember what life was like, Santana would pretend she was Rachel, prancing around like an innocent deer. Unfortunately, Rachel was just as doomed as anybody, and Santana vowed again to stop the deaths.

Quinn stood quietly at the end of the hallway.

"Santana?" She looked away from the window.

"Quinn. How are things?" Quinn's blonde hair was drawn up in a red bow, not a strand out of place. She tugged at the little brown belt around her tiny waist.

"I'm afraid the next victim has been targeted," Santana's grip tightened around the window sill, making her fist fall through it. She took a deep breath and asked the obvious question.

"Who is it?"

"I don't know, but there have been signs," Quinn looked down at her boots. "I think—I think maybe we should get you out of the house." Santana's eyes filled with longing and false hope, but were soon drained away and replaced with sorrow.

"You know that's not possible, Quinn." Then, in a confident and quick stride, Quinn put her hands on the sides of Santana's face. In that moment, Santana felt what it was to be alive again, her being flickering into existence, color returning to her body for half a second. Quinn was giving her something no dead person had anymore. _Love_.

"But what if it was?"

Sebastian and Finn were still skeptical.

"Look, Santana," Sebastian had dropped most of his sarcastic tendencies due to the fact that death can really suck the life out of someone. Literally. "I'm going to be honest—I don't think it will work." Finn sat on a dusty chair in the corner, watching the conversation play out in front of him. He was often quieter than he used to be. Santana crossed her arms over her chest.

"Why not?" Her head snapped in a circular motion, daring Sebastian to argue. Finn glanced up and a ray of sunshine hit Santana's ghostly body. He saw her as she was then. Her ponytail was ragged, strands thrown out over her face. She was wearing the same cheerleader uniform she'd been wearing when she died, unable to change it. Santana was broken and they both could see it.

Sebastian stood up and put both hands on her face, fingers under her ears. Finn could just make out the fine lines of his veins.

"We—we can't get out here."

Santana and Sebastian stood in the middle of their forsaken attic, crying in each other's arms while Finn stared sadly out the grimy window.

Quinn grabbed several of the dusty and worn books from Will's study. Her arm secured them against her body as she bolted for her room. Brittany was sitting on her bed when she arrived. Quinn threw the books down on her bed and flipped through the pages left unmarked from her last read. Finally, she came to a page where the corner was bent over. She grabbed a yellow highlighter off of her nightstand and brushed the tip over a large paragraph in the middle of the page. A small note was made next to it.

_Hints too much. Take out next copy._

The rest of the note was smeared away from age and Quinn tore the page away from the spine of the book. She shoved it into her left shoe and thumbed through the book a couple more times; ripping very few pages from each book she'd collected. Rachel walked in and stared. Quinn must have looked completely crazy, highlighting and tearing up books. Luckily, Brittany threw her fake magic wand at her face, distracting her just long enough for Quinn to gather her things in a sweep of her arm and run from the room.

She slid down the wall in the sealed off the hallway, where Santana often watched the other kids playing in the yard from the window. Quinn continued to make little notes and circles on the pages, underlining the most important parts of the texts. Hopefully, this would lead to Santana's salvation.

Finn had watched Santana and Sebastian many times before, silently observing how their relationship grew. Now, he watched as they danced across the attic floor, kicking up dust as their feet moved. Santana had described in such intricate detail of Kurt and Rachel in the yard. Sebastian had seen what Finn hadn't, telling her that they could have that, too. Finn mumbled lyrics to an old song about valentines he remembered Will singing when he was still alive. Sometimes they could have this. Happiness.

That is, until the opening carved into the floor opened and Quinn appeared.

She threw her load of papers across the old table shoved into the corner, sifting through them until she found the one she wanted.

"Look!" There was an overwhelming excitement in her voice, like a child on Christmas. Quinn was practically bouncing. Santana was at her side in an instant. Sebastian's smile dropped and he joined them at the table.

"Are you sure?" Finn heard Sebastian say. He sounded skeptical.

"C'mon, Seb, we have to try everything." Santana pleaded. Finn turned away from them and crawled onto the desk his chair was pushed against. Steadying himself amongst the ripped and yellowing parchment, his stare settled on the peppy young girl who'd been sent there two weeks ago.

Rachel had been at the home for two weeks and everything seemed to be heading her way.

Well, except for that one time.

But that doesn't matter.

What matters is that Kurt was slowly turning out to be her best friend and showing her the wonders of no parental supervision. They'd take one cigarette from the box a day at precisely twelve 'o clock in the afternoon and talk about whatever they had on their minds. Most likely boys. Then they'd climb higher into the tree and look out over the leaves at the home's other residents heading inside. Things got boring after a while, though. And Kurt liked to shake things up.

Rachel put on her dancing clothes while Kurt flipped through her drawings.

"These are—whoa! Is that me?!"

"Yep." She came out from behind the privacy screen and threw her other clothes into her open suitcase.

"So, where are we going?" Kurt raised an eyebrow and took her hand.

"You'll just have to wait, Rachel Berry."

Well, getting to the place Kurt was planning on going didn't go exactly how he'd wanted it to. Blaine Anderson had caught them and sung Taylor Swift in their faces before they were forced to let him tag along. Blaine had also invited Mike Chang. Kurt smacked his forehead.

The dance studio was rundown and abandoned. Perfect. Kurt led his companions up the creaky stairs, grabbing onto the railing for support. The room where the dancers practiced was small and stuffy, but Kurt opened the two windows on the wall and flipped the lights on. Rachel dropped her duffel bag, which held everything she normally took to dance lessons with her private tutor in it.

"How did you…?" Kurt knelt to a bookshelf stacked with CDs and scanned them for the perfect one.

"I found out about this place when S—an old friend told me about it. She went into town and told me everything. I guess it was so fascinating because we're not supposed to leave the home." Rachel did a turn in the middle of the floor in front of the mirror that took up most of the wall. She kicked her leg around and around, her other foot pushing her one after the other. Kurt put on music that Rachel had never heard before,

"Who is this?"

"Cheryline Lim." He did a quick turn. Blaine stretched himself across the carpet at the back of the room.

"Ever heard of _Dance Moms_?" he asked.

"No."

"You're missing out on _so _much," Mike added sarcastically, Kurt shooting him a dirty look.

"I love _Dance Moms_. It deserves a TV show about its TV show," Kurt did a turn. His turns weren't perfect in any way. He hadn't spent his entire life devoted to the ancient art of ballet as Rachel had. But he was still amazing. For somebody teaching themselves anything about ballet, Kurt was astounding. The song was quite beautiful, with a soft and melodic tone to it.  
_Inside of me  
I find my wings_

Rachel liked it. Kurt expressed his desire to learn how to ballroom dance and Mike took it upon himself to teach them all. Of course, Rachel had known how to ballroom dance since she was five, and so had Blaine. But that didn't mean they couldn't teach him. Fortunately for Kurt, Blaine volunteered to teach him while Mike and Rachel danced.

Back at the home, Quinn, wrapped tightly in her bed, squeezed her eyes shut and clutched onto her blankets.

The home had taken another victim.

**Okay, okay. Stay with me! If you're confused, here's a little recap; Santana, Finn, and Sebastian are ghosts who are confined to the attic of the home. I know; now you're thinking, 'wasn't Santana in that hallway?' Yes, she was. Each one of them can either be in the attic or one other room in the house. No others. Okay, their spirits can't leave blah blah blah… Quinn is the only one who can see them. Right? Right. I will not answer any questions regarding the last line of this chapter.**

**Oh! And Sebtana is my life!**


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